The Ones Before
by Michael Ace
Summary: Harry has an interesting conversation with the Master of Death before him. A take on The title "master of death" and those who accept it.
1. The Current Master

(A/n: I am planning on maybe two or three chapters of interactions between the first master and Harry, The first master and Death, and possibly small snippets of the daily tasks of the Master of Death, depending on the feedback received. Enjoy!)

I was not surprised that it was a boy who sat in front of me. He could be no older than twenty, with hair darker than night and eyes as green as the grass around us. A thought crossed my mind. I did not think we were that different, he and I.

"Where are we?" He asked, moving his arm in a sweeping gesture to the tall tree and flowery fields around us.

"Well, it doesn't have a name," I told him, smiling gently and running my hand through the grass I sat in, "But it is awfully beautiful isn't it?" He nodded once, staring out across the natural expanse.

"Is it magic?" He asked, reaching out to touch the ancient tree, and I knew he could feel the buzz and hear the hum that danced around us.

"You could call it magic, If you wanted," I said, letting the buzz move through me, "But what you feel, hear, sense; it is life."

"This place, I continued, "is filled with it. New things always growing, blooming flowers, sprouting plants, birds hatching. Brimming with life and breathe." I laughed slightly, "Some would think it odd that a master of Death finds solace here."

"You are the Master of Death?" He asked, turning as if to survey me closer, eyes dragging across my form.

"For now." I stated simply, watching him.

"You want to pass the title on to me." It wasn't a question but a quiet, resigned statement.

I frowned slightly, not taking my eyes off of him even as he let his eyes turn back to the tree, running his fingers across the rough bark. "Only if you want it."

He laughed once without humor and sat next to the tree, running his hands through his already messy hair. I plucked a flower from the ground.

"Your name is Harry, right?" He didn't look surprised that I knew his name, but I offered explanation anyways, "Death spoke to me of you, watched over you for very long time." He looked up, but did not respond to me. "It is a very long existence, Harry Potter, to be a child of death. To be a Master of Death is so much longer."

I focused on the life moving through the flower, buzzing and dancing in my palm. Gently, I took his hand and uncurled his fingers, placing the white flower in his palm. He exhaled, staring wide eyed down at the small plant in his hand.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" I asked him, "To feel the life surround you?"

"It's...Different." he admitted, the flower still laying in his palm. I nodded in understanding. "Do you always feel this? The...life?"

"Yes," I answered truthfully, "and there are times when it is the worst thing I have ever felt and others when it is the only thing that makes me feel whole once more."

He seemed to contemplate this. "You said I only need to take the title if I want it?" He asked, and I stared at the white petals that lay against his dark, calloused palm.

"Death is many things, but unreasonable is not one of them. They will not force anyone to take the title, for it is such a large one."

"You accepted."

"Indeed." I could feel tears pricking behind my eyes, "I was killed very young. I did not have a life, I escaped one prison only to be greeted by those with no compassion. I had been surrounded by death for most years of my life, and so when I greeted death I did so unafraid." Harry stared at me with something akin to sympathy.

"Death is compassionate, Harry, with no current master, and Hallows far separated from one another, They offered me the title. Told me what I would do, what would happen. Death was lonely, and so was I. Death has been nothing but kind to me, even as their master, Death has always been my friend."

"You seem very brave to me." he said, dropping the flower to place a hand on my shoulder.

"That is a very big statement from a man like you Harry Potter." I smiled as much as I could manage.

"A master of Death cannot be killed. You will never die of natural causes or otherwise. You can travel between worlds, the realms of death and this realm, the realm of life, and you can stay in either for as long as you like, but you will never die."

"If I accept the title, what happens to you?"

"I have a choice." I told him, a gentle breeze blew the flower away from us, and I allowed my gaze to follow it. "I can choose to live as I have been, I can keep the ability to travel from realm to realm and offer you guidance or support if you so need it, still unable to be killed."

"Or?"

I was silent for a moment.

"Or I can choose to die. To live permanently in the realm of death for the rest of my existence. This gives up every right I had as Master of Death, and prevents me from ever being offered the title again."

He watched me quietly, lost in his own thoughts. For once I wished I knew what the boy in front of me was thinking of.

"Can I ask?"

"I would choose to help you. If you accepted the title, I would help you in your duties."

He pondered this for a long while, staring up at the blue sky that was slowly dimming with sunset. I was silent as the colors of the sky melted into one another, time passing as it always would.

"Were there others? Before you?"

"A few. They chose to die. There have been others that have been given the offer of the title, and each one refused me at the moment. So for now, it is only me."

"You are alone?" The surprise and sadness was evident in his voice and face, and I shook my head quickly.

"I do not believe I am ever truly alone. I can visit those who reside in the realm of death, and I can visit those in realm of the living. I also have Death. When I became lost in my past memories, Death guided me to a safe place and comforted me, listened to me until I was well again. Death made sure that I was never overwhelmed. Death, above all else has been and will always be a good friend to me."

"I am glad that you haven't been alone, then." Harry said, frowning just slightly, "I know what it's like, being alone."

I nodded my head. I didn't want to press him to tell me things I was already mostly aware of, though his opening up was a good sign. "It's not always favorable."

"When do I choose?"

"You have seven years to make a choice. If you have not decided by then you will be offered the title again at the time of your death, whenever that comes to pass."

"And I can choose now?"

I let surprise creep onto my face. "You could yes. I did not take you for someone who makes quick decisions on things so important."

"Well, I've had one hell of a life, haven't I? I've got to make decisions quick."

"Are you sure it's what you want?" I asked, I had an idea of what he was going to choose, but I had never encountered any one who choose so quickly.

"I don't think I can have a family after the war," He muttered, "It's been a few years, but I'm still on edge, I'm still watching for battles, I'm ready to run at a moment's notice. Romantic relationships, domestic life, I don't think I'm cut out for that. I don't think I ever have been."

I frowned at his statement. "Can I make you a deal, Harry Potter?"

"What sort of deal?" he asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"You take at least one year. I will visit you as many times as you like, answer the questions I am allowed to. If that year passes and you are still certain of your choice, I will let you answer."

He was silent for many minuets, chewing on his bottom lip. I looked out across the field and at the sky that was darkening around us. The life humming around us was growing louder, and I watched an owl fly overhead.

"Deal." He said, "One year. And I get to ask questions. But," he said carefully, "you never told me your name."

"Oh," I felt my face flush deeply as I realized he was right. "I change it from time to time, So if I meet the descendants of someone I once knew I can blame it on family resemblance." I muttered to him, "But I suppose my given name will do if I believe we are to grow as close as I Think. If you need me, call for Idona. I will come to you as soon as possible."

He smiled. "Alright then Idona, I'll see you rather soon."

"I have no doubt of that, Harry Potter."


	2. To Love and To Save

Idona sat quietly, Harry had only been gone a few minuets when there was a rustling beside her.

"Hello." She said, tucking a strand of long dark hair behind her ear. "I thought you might join me."

Idona turned to look at Death, smiling brightly. Death had taken the form of a young woman, still wrapped in a dark cloak, and with glimmering red eyes.

"You are worried about him." Death said knowingly, sitting next to Idona.

Idona nodded, "He will try to save everyone. It will take him so long to understand that he can't.."

"No longer than you." Death said, lounging in the tall grass, they did not turn to look at Idona, but knew that she was smiling half hardheartedly.

"He will love people strongly, but not in the same way. It will be so painful for him, he will cry for them."

"You say that as if you cry for none now." Death laughed, but it was not cruel. "It never does stop hurting. But you gave him the seven years in hope that he would find a lover, wife, husband, anything and he would change his mind."

Idona was silent, pressing her fingers to the soft dirt.

"Having someone, it helps." She said finally, glancing over to Death's relaxed figure. "He won't have anyone."

"Well," Death said, as though it was the most obvious thought in the entire world, "He will have us."

Idona, acting the like an average teen, threw her hand up in frustration, "You don't understand!" She huffed, "He won't have anyone like I have you! Shouldn't he get a chance at that?" She let her arms fall heavily.

"I forget just how young you are sometimes." Death muttered, turning their head to look at Idona.

"I am almost seven-hundred sixty years old." Idona said stubbornly, narrowing her brown eyes at Death.

"And I am much older." Death said, and after pausing just a moment they asked, "Did it never occur to you, Dear Idona, that Harry Potter will never seek out that kind of love?"

"I-What do you mean?"

" Harry Potter has never, and may never, feel a romantic love. It was simply how he was born. I believe they have created a name for it- aromantic, hmm yes, that sounds right. It's amazing how mortals are advancing-"

Idona interrupted, almost regretfully, Deaths Excited ramble, "What does that mean?"

"Hm? Oh, right. He does not love others like you love me. He doesn't really understand it, he doesn't know the word himself yet even, but he is starting to understand that romantic love does not appeal to him. He's accepting, finally that he is not broken because of it."

"He will not know the pain of having and losing a lover, but her will know always the pain of losing a loved one."

Idona watched the stars twinkle brightly, suddenly thankful for the peaceful land around them.

"Do you love me," Idona asked Death suddenly, knees pulled up to her chest, "Because I can never die?"

Death sat up sharply, and looked at their master closely "Do you love me because you are not alive?" They asked, an eyebrow raised.

There was a heavy pause between them. "No. I love you because of who you are." Idona said finally, dark eyes staring at Death.

Death nodded, smiling, opening their arms to girl next to them. She accepted the invitation without question. They sat like that for a long time, Idona relaxing and enjoying the peaceful quiet Death carried with them, the slight muffle on the humming vibrations Life made.

"It never does get any easier, does it? Falling in love with mortals, knowing that they fear you, knowing how fragile they are?"

Death spoke softly, "It does not." Long, thin fingers ran through Idona's hair, "But you are so amazing that sometimes it's not as bad."

"We know that falling love with Mortals is painful, it's empty, yet it seems that everyday it is one or the other."

"It is because Mortals are so complex, so.." Death trailed off for a moment, "Fragile. They live their lives, fulfill their purpose and create bonds and webs and magic and technology, even as they know I wait patiently for each and every one of them. They carry on. They fight for their heartbeats and days and breathe and they do it with such passion, such determination, To fall in love is only natural."

Idona laughed, but it seemed almost humorless. "He will love each and every mortal he sees. He saves people. He wants to save everyone."

"He will learn, just as you learned." Death trailed their fingers down Idona's arm, "He will have you to help him. He understands that there are choices to be made, and not always are they easy."

Idona nodded solemnly.

"What will he say about us?"

"Us? You mean Death who fell in love with it's master, a kind heart and bright soul?"

Idona suppressed laughter. "Of a girl who loves Death with her Half beating heart? Of a girl who made so many mistakes in life only to find comfort in the embrace of what so many fear and do not understand?"

"Of an entity that time itself can not destroy, brought to it's knees by a mere mortal?"

"Do you think he will think that it's odd? Or wrong?" Idona asked finally, tilting her head back to stare at Death.

"Well, it is rather odd. Completely unheard of. But never wrong."

Idona snorted, "Unheard of for sure. Hardly even anyone realizes Death can take a physical for, or can feel anything at all." She scoffed at the apparent ignorance of these things.

"When You grow older than written word, older than recorded time, myths begin, legends are born, stories are told. There are truths and there is spaces that are filled in between them. One can't simply expect to have every word spoken about them to be the truth."

Idona shrugged.

"I don't thinnk that he will have anything to say about us other than expressing his surprise."

Idona watched Death carefully. "If he became your master, He could stop it, couldn't he, he could claim it's interference in the balance."

"He is not so cruel."

"I suppose." Idona stood suddenly. A shuddering breath escaping her.

Death bowed their head. "Go to them, bring them home, I will be waiting for them."

Idona only just managed to nod, taking a single step before looking at her surroundings once again.

She could see the tree that she had sat under just hours earlier, now a small spot in the distance. What stood before her now was a somber sight.

Flames leaped from the wreckage of what was once an airplane. The heat danced against her, and sparks flew up from wires.

Seventeen. Seventeen souls already calling to her, confused and lost in a world that they were no longer a part of. A child no older than eight stumbled out of the wreckage, tear tracks falling steadily from his eyes.

"My momma. My little sister. They're hurt. Can you help them please? I don't want them to die too."

Idona resisted her urge to weep. "Take me to them, child."

Idona followed the sniffling child to a women clutching an infant to her chest. The woman was still strapped in and breathing shallowly, the Infant's cries muffled against it's mother's chest.

Idona reached out, and smoothed the hair out of the woman's face. Blood trickled down her forehead. "Please. They've gotta stay here. They gotta." Idona did not turn to face the child. "I don't care that I'm dead now please, please." The child's voice wavered and Idona flinched.

She was aware of the growing number of spirits that had gathered around them, some muttering, some crying silently, watching Idona as though she were the only thing they could see.

She fumbled with the belt buckles. "Wake up," She muttered in the ear of the woman, "You two have time yet. Hurry now, hurry." The woman opened her eyes, and the grip on the infant in her arms tightened.

"Daniel?!" She cried as she stood, shielding the infant in her arms, Idona turned to the child, who still crying, stared at his mother with longing. "Daniel!?" Idona could feel the heat of the flames growing again, but could not draw her eyes away from the mother.

"Oh my god." Daniel was standing next to his body, watching his mother reach down to him. Suddenly, it became to much, and Idona turned away, looking at other spirits.

"We are dead, aren't we?" A man asked, "We've all died."

A woman began wailing at this revelation, and Idona strode calmly through the crowd to her. She placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Dear Melanie," She said softly, her voice soft as wind, "Your grandparents are waiting to greet you, and I believe that there is a rather excited Kitten longing for it's mistress."

The woman took a while to go silent but she took Idona's offered hand and stood. "I was gonna be great." She muttered, "I promised them all I was going to be great." Idona led her away, leading the new souls slowly into the realm of death, her heart breaking as they spoke to her.

Some told her dreams, some told her memories. She listened to each of them, and she felt weighed down with each and every word.

Daniel stood still by his mother and sister, his mother kneeling next to a figure laying in the grass, and the only other survivors, four, crying and dialing cellphones frantically.

"It's time to go child." Idona said, and a gently breeze blew through the once tranquil field. Daniel looked over to her, and she thought that he looked so much older than just the few minuets it had been since she had last looked at him.

He looked from his sister, who was sniffling now, staring at the spot in which her brother stood, and then back to Idona.

"Thank you." He said quietly, reaching out to grasp one of Idona's hands, "My dad is waiting for me already. Do they have Ice cream where he is?"

"You can eat your fill of whatever you desire, and then some."

Death greeted them as Idona walked into their realm, Daniel's hand falling from hers with a cry of "Daddy!" and ran into the arms of a brown haired man. Daniel whispered something to the man, who then turned to stare at Idona and Death.

He bowed his head, and smiled when he raised it.

Idona stared after them.

It would take Harry Potter long enough to learn that not everyone could be saved, but the ones that could would be the ones that made everything okay, even just for a little bit.

A/N: This got way longer than I really intended, but since I had only ever intended for this story to be a collection of events and glimpses into lives, I think it's more than acceptable. Yes, I made Harry aromantic.

Any thoughts, opinions, comments on this? I'd be more than glad to hear them.

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!


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